


Raspberry vodka

by cammyohcammy



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Denial, Establishing a Realtionship, First Time, M/M, Sibling Incest, Wincest - Freeform, make up sex ensues obvi, the corny "drunk make out session leads to something more" kind of story but beTTER
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-22
Updated: 2014-06-22
Packaged: 2018-02-05 00:23:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,300
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1798729
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cammyohcammy/pseuds/cammyohcammy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>Realization hit Sam like a fucking bus and he ran to the bathroom faster than his legs could keep up with. As he was heaving over the toilet, his eyes stung from tears and his throat burned and all he could really think about was how this was all bound to happen sooner or later.</em>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Raspberry vodka

**Author's Note:**

> I do not own SPN or any of its characters (unfortunately).  
> This fic contains sibling incest but that's okay cause you probably already know that but hey don't say I didn't warn you if it isn't your cup of tea and you didn't read the Dean/Sam pairing up top???  
> HOWEVER, if it is, read and enjoy!

_Each day you come closer;_  
 _So close I can almost feel your breath on my shoulders._  
 _But I know if I turn around, you might run away again._  
 _Stuck like those prehistoric mammoths in the ice;_  
 _Thaw me out and I won't close my eyes._ -Now Now, "Prehistoric."

****

The sunlight through the window hit Sam's eyes when he woke up and it fucking hurt. He moved his face in the pillow to block the light to solace his throbbing head but the small movement made his stomach churn angrily.

He made an incoherent whiny sound and slowly, _slowly_ sat up until he was sitting on the motel bed covering his eyes and cursing at himself for drinking so much last night. _Never fucking again,_ he told himself, even though he told himself that after every hangover he woke up to but when he went out to bars with Dean after jobs, Dean would tell him _cm'on, Sam-squatch! one more shot! Quit bein' a puss!_ and before Sam knew it he didn't know what time it was or how to speak in full sentences anymore and he found himself in a weird motel the next day face down on the bed with no recollection of the night before. It was the same thing every time. Even though it was somewhat annoying because hangovers were not Sam's cup of tea, It was a routine that they've had for years, and it was theirs.

Last night was New Years Eve, and instead of going out, Dean suggested that they stayed in the motel to booze up because bars were bound to be annoyingly packed and it's not really Dean's scene. Sam agreed, so he bought a twelve pack of beer at the liquor store and he found a bottle of raspberry flavored vodka that was mysteriously under the front seat of the Impala that wasn't even opened yet ( _No, Sam, I don't know where that came from....what?...why would I buy raspberry flavored vodka?! I'm not a girl!_ ).

Sam looked at the other motel bed and noticed Dean was gone, and his car keys weren't on the bedside table either. He figured maybe he went out to get coffee or some breakfast. Sam really, really hoped it was coffee because if he walked in with food he knew the sour contents of his stomach would make an appearance.

Sam felt weird. He couldn't really find an explanation for it, it was like he was uncomfortable in his own skin. He knew that this wasn't from his hangover, because he's had _plenty_ of them before from times at Stanford and on the road with Dean, so he's more than familiar with what they feel like. And this was different.

He tried shifting his weight on the bed. Stretching. Yawning. He even tried laying back down again, and it was getting quite annoying because the moving was making his head hurt again and the nausea was getting worse. Suddenly, he had this overwhelming feeling like he did something wrong that made the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. His skin felt tight and clammy and he felt closer and closer to throwing up.

He tried to calm down, breathe, retrace his steps of the events that went on last night before he blacked out from drunkenness. He sighed and closed his eyes.

Sam got the booze and put it out on the table for them to drink. The raspberry flavor of the vodka was kinda gross and a little strong, but wasn't so bad after the first three shots. They drank the beer as well, watched the ball drop in Times Square on the small television and Dean made a comment about how the blonde female with the microphone was smokin' hot and had a really nice set of tits (but is anyone surprised?).

From there, it got a little fuzzy and Sam had to really try to dig in his brain of what happened after that. Pictures of them sitting on the motel bed together flashed by. Dean was making a vulgar joke about midgets, or something. They were laughing, their faces getting closer and closer until an image flashed by of Dean's mouth _warm warm warm_ on Sam's and his arms were wrapped around him tightly and his hands traveled from his back to his thighs and-

oh _god._

Realization hit Sam like a fucking bus and he ran to the bathroom faster than his legs could keep up with. As he was heaving over the toilet, his eyes stung from tears and his throat burned and all he could really think about was how this was all bound to happen sooner or later.

Ever since he began hunting with Dean, things between them got weird. It started with Sam noticing how good looking his brother was, which was something that he's really always known since he was young. But it got to a certain point that he actually thought about kissing him or touching him when he's close to him and _maybe_ he's crossed his mind once or twice when he had his hand on his cock, warm and tight and so _good_ and _maybe_ he even grunted his name silently when he came.

It got worse after Dean came back from hell. Losing his brother for those few months really took a toll on his emotions and he couldn't look at Dean after that without desperation washing over his face or his fingers shaking slightly. He felt stupid and a little disturbed about it. Developing a crush on your older brother didn't have any perks, or seem to have a good outcome to it. Sam knew it would be one sided, so telling him about his feelings were out of the question. Dean asked him a few times what the hell was up with him and he'd lie and say that he didn't get enough sleep the night before or something and then change the subject to something hunts-related.

But then, that's when Sam couldn't help but notice over time that Dean was returning the same looks he was. It was subtle and almost not there at all but Sam would catch a glimpse of it occasionally in the corner of his eye. It got a little more obvious over time, perhaps Dean was getting impatient, and soon longing looks to one another were common. They wouldn't do anything about it, though (up until last night, at least).

Sam assumed since all of his clothes were on they didn't take it any farther than just making out and touching. And he didn't recollect anything else happening either, so he tried to tell himself that and it calmed him a tiny bit and made him stop shaking. When he eventually stopped puking, he went back to his bed to lie down because, _fuck,_ he felt awful. Both physically and mentally speaking. Dean was god knows where and Sam didn't know if he remembered what happened or if he'd even come back at all.

He eventually did, though, much to Sam's doubts. When he walked in Sam assumed he was going to pitch a fit or yell, but instead he kind of kept his head down like a nine year old who was ashamed because his baseball broke the neighbor's window. He was obviously jittery and nervous and at one point they met eye contact and Sam opened his mouth to say, he didn't know, _something_. But before he could get a word out Dean told him in a rushed voice to pack up their shit; they've got places to go and people to see and things to kill. Sam reluctantly obeyed. He knew sooner or later that they'd have to talk about this, but he doubted they ever would. Talking feelings out wasn't the Winchester way of life, after all. 

He lied his aching head down next to the window on the car ride to Virginia where their next case was. During the extremely quiet car ride there he heard a little voice in his head telling him this wasn't going to end well and Sam couldn't help but agree and sigh. Happy new year to him.

 

It's been over a week. An unbearably shitty week. The two of them haven't talked or even looked in each other's general direction unless they absolutely needed to. It was awkward and stressful and just really bad and Sam had enough of it. 

"How long are we gonna keep doing this, Dean?"

They were in their motel unpacking their shit and settling in. Dean was sitting on the opposite bed from Sam on their laptop looking up information on a case they were working on. 

Dean didn't even flinch at the question. At first Sam didn't think he heard him.

"Doing what?" He finally said after a while, eyes squinting and focused on the laptop.

Sam shifted hit weight nervously on the bed and took a deep sigh. "Not talking about...this," he said warily.

Dean glanced over at him quickly before returning his eyes to the laptop. "There's nothing to talk about, Sam," he said with obvious warning in his voice.

"Yes, there is," Sam pushed.

"No Sam! There isn't!" Dean shouted. "What we did shouldn't have happened and that's the end of it," he dismissed.

Sam shook his head. "I'm not talking about New Years, Dean! I'm talking about the obvious fact that over the past few years we've developed...something, between us, and we keep shoving it under the fucking carpet like it's nothing, and I can't do it anymore!"

Dean shot his head up and looked at Sam. He opened his mouth as if he was going to say something, possibly yell, but nothing came out and he closed it shut again.

"I can't do it anymore," Sam repeated, a little quieter, almost with a plea. They looked at each other for a long time until Dean looked away and closed the laptop slowly.

"What do you suppose we should _do,_ then?" Dean mumbled, almost sarcastically. He wasn't looking at Sam now, he was picking at something at his nail and he had such a _giving in_ sound in his voice that Sam never heard before.

"The way I see it," he said, "we have two options. We give this...whatever _this_ is, a go. Try it out. Or, we decide it's not worth it, and we go back to how we were before." Sam bit his lip after saying the last part, because he really, really didn't want to go back to what they were before. But he's not entirely sure he wants to try this either. His brain was at a stand still.

"What do _you_ want to do?" Dean asked, looking at the ceiling, now.

Sam shrugged. "I don't know. I mean...You're my older brother. It seems really weird and wrong but...I don't know," Sam stuttered. Because, he really didn't fucking _know._ Dean's the older brother, _he_ should be the one to have all the answers to everything. He always did. That's why Sam looked up to him so much ever since he was younger. Everything felt safe and okay because it's _Dean,_ he knew what to do, he'd always make the right decision. But now, he's just as clueless as Sam, and it scared them both a little bit.

"What do _you_ want to do?" Sam countered.

Dean sighed. "There's millions of reasons why we shouldn't. But then again I'm not really the kind of person to go by the rules of things...neither of us are."

Silence filled the room for a couple of heart-stopping minutes. Sam swallowed the knot in his throat and spoke up hesitantly.

"So...we're trying this?"

Dean looked over at him and closed his eyes as he spoke. "I mean...we'll take it slow. But. Yeah. We'll try this."

 

The next few days that followed were strange. That invisible barrier that was put between them that forbade any romantic contact was lifted, and to be honest, they didn't know what to do with that freedom. It was like a prisoner being released from prison, being able to do whatever he wished within boundaries. There was no stress of looking away or resisting the urge to touch one another because all the cards were on the table now.

Sometimes Sam forgot that, hey, he can actually try holding Dean's hand now when he drives (which he did; Christ, he forgot what it was like to _not_ have his hand in his. It felt like it was always meant to be there). He could stare at his ass when he's walking in front of him without any pressure of Dean noticing because when he did, he'd chuckle and playfully stare right back. They were nervous around each other constantly and it was so new and _weird_ to them that it was almost exhilarating.

One evening Dean dragged Sam into seeing the new Resident Evil movie even though Sam complained almost the entire time ( _really, Dean? They made six movies out of it and the same thing happens every time; the bitch gets the shit beat out of her and she keeps getting up!_ ). After it was over, they walked home since their motel was a few blocks away. Their hands playfully brushed against each other and they ended up holding hands. Dean teasingly waved at the people who gave disapproving looks that were walking by and Sam laughed and dragged his hand away to prevent confrontation.

When they got back, Sam kissed him goodnight. He made it as quick and casual as his body could let him, even though his mind was fucking racing and his chest felt warm. The kiss was unfamiliar and totally awesome and when Sam pulled back from it, Dean gave him a nervous smile and Sam returned it back. After that, they shakily said goodnight to one another and went to bed, even though it took forever for them to fall asleep.

Sam swears his lips didn't stop tingling even when he woke up the next day.

 

Things were going great, at least from what Sam thought, until Dean dropped a bomb on him a few days later.

They were driving to a potential case in Nevada. Earlier that day Dean was acting weird. At breakfast he almost didn't look at Sam at all and didn't talk to him unless it was something case related. When they got in the car and hit the road, Dean pushed Sam's hand away when he went to hold it like he always did.

"I think...we should put an end to this, Sam."

Sam literally felt his heart fall to his stomach and it fucking hurt.

"What?" he asked bewilderingly.

Dean huffed a sigh. "I just...I don't see this going anywhere. We had a good run, we tried it out, but now...it's over."

Sam gaped at his brother, whose eyes were focused on the road intimately.

"It's only been, what, a little over a week?" Sam asked. "I don't think you really gave it a chance..." Sam's voice was quiet and disbelieving because how can he do this _now,_ when things were going pretty well? He kissed Dean a few nights ago. He didn't show any sign of not liking the kiss. And now he 'doesn't think it's going anywhere?' Sam wasn't connecting the dots. He wasn't understanding.

"It was enough," Dean mumbled.

"Was _I_ enough?" Sam challenged.

This made Dean look at him. "Sammy, this has nothing to do with you," he started.

"Oh, spare me the fucking 'it's not you it's me' bullshit speech, Dean!" Sam shouted frustratingly. "I'm your _brother_ , after all. You can give it to me straight."

Dean stayed quiet and continued focusing on the road. Sam shook his head and laughed sadly.

"You know what? Fine. If that's what you want...fine." he muttered.

 

Time past, Sam's not sure how long. He didn't care. They did their job and worked cases and saved people's lives and he went through it numbingly. There was almost no talking, eye contact, and absolutely no touching between the two of them. Sam's hand felt colder on drives with Dean because it wasn't in his. He felt cold all over. It was like what happened after New Years all over again but _worse_ and Sam felt lonelier than ever.

One evening they were at Bobby's with special guest Castiel to talk about Apocalypse related issues. Bobby noticed the chill between them almost immediately.

"The hell's up with you two?" he asked. "You got some sort of beef with each other or somethin'?"

"We're fine," Dean said in a tone of voice that indicated that they obviously _weren't_ fine.

"Well, whatever it is, quit bein' a bunch of girls and suck it up. We got a world that's ending here, for christ sake. I'm sure whatever it is you two are crying about, you'll get over it," he said harshly.

Sam stood up and announced he was going to take a walk, and walked out before anyone could protest.

He walked and walked until he was on the main road. He didn't know where he was going, exactly, and he didn't care. The world really was ending. His world, to be exact. Those few days that Dean was his, the world was ending too, there was still an Apocalypse going on. But his world felt right. The ground they were standing on could have crumbled beneath them and he would have went down without a fight. Because with Dean, he didn't have to fight. He just had to be himself. Sam. Sammy. His Sammy. And now, that's not even enough for Dean, and it hurt like hell.

Suddenly Cas was beside him and it practically gave him a fucking heart attack because, seriously, what's his fucking deal and always popping up and making Sam almost shit his pants, especially at the _worst_ time.

Sam scowled at him. "Cas," Sam said gently, "what are you doing here?"

"Your brother told me to 'check up' on you," Cas replied.

Sam laughed bitterly. "How sweet of him."

"My sincerest apologies if I startled you," Cas said carefully.

"It's fine," Sam murmured.

They walked for a couple minutes together in quiet as cars occasionally drove by them. It should have been awkward, but, even though Sam didn't want to admit it, it was kind of a nice quiet. There was no stress or tension and he hadn't had that kind of silence with someone in a while. He could breathe a little bit again and he felt somewhat relaxed.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Cas asked, breaking the comfortable silence.

"Not really," he replied bluntly. "Cas, have you ever tried raspberry flavored vodka before?"

Cas squinted at him curiously. "I am not quite sure what that is," he replied. "And considering I am an angel of the lord and not human, I cannot consume alcoholic beverages. Though, it does sound peculiar. Why do you ask?"

Sam laughed. The first _real,_ genuine laugh he's had in a while. "Nothing," he replied. "Can you like, Zap me back to the motel me and Dean are staying at? I'm real tired," he lied.

Cas shrugged. "Where is it?" he asked.

"The Queen Elizabeth motel. I'm pretty sure we're in room 103-"

Before Sam could even finish his sentence, he was in his motel room in a blink of an eye and it made Sam a little dizzy.

"A little warning would have been nice, you know."

"My apologies," Cas said, even though he really didn't sound at all sorry. Sam didn't care, though. He was thankful for the comfortable silence that Cas and him shared. He was even thankful that he dragged his brother out of hell, despite how much of an unreasonable asshole he's being at the moment. He had a sincere admiration for him from day one.

"Thanks, Castiel," Sam said.

"You are welcome, Sam. Do you want me to tell Dean that I brought you back here?"

Sam gave a one arm shrug. "I guess? I'm pretty sure he has the gist that I was going to do that already. He'll be happy as a clam to know I came back here so he can be away from me, I'm sure."

Cas squinted at him again. "I do not understand how mollusks can possess human emotions. But are you sure you do not want to talk about what is troubling you two?" he asked.

"No, I'm fine. Just..Don't ever try dating any of your brothers, Cas," Sam said offhandedly.

Cas furrowed his eyebrows together. "I...should be returning to Bobby and Dean now," He said slowly. "I hope your...predicament, will be resolved within the near future."

"Me too, Cas," Sam said long after Cas was gone, "Me too."

Sam spent the rest of the night drinking the remainder of the bottle of raspberry vodka from New Years that he found in his duffle bag, trying to remember the taste of Dean's lips.

 

Sam woke up the next late afternoon feeling crappy, unsurprisingly. Dean wasn't in the other bed (again, unsurprisingly). Sam had extreme déjà vu because this was New Years Day all over again; Sam waking up to a crappy hangover and pretty soon Dean would walk in the door saying _up and at em' Sam let's hit the road!_ and then they'll have yet _another_ god awful quiet car ride and Sam was not looking forward to it at all.

Sam took a long shower. He let the water run over his head and back for a little while, not caring that he's probably using all the hot water. There was a noise Sam heard that sounded like the motel door opening and closing, breaking his relaxing trance. At first, he figured it was housekeeping, until he heard the sound of car keys hitting a table that could only be Dean. He sighed and shut off the water and dried off.

When he opened the door, Dean was sitting on the bed facing him, holding a cup of Starbucks coffee. Dean met his eyes and held it out to him weakly.

Sam rose his eyebrows, walked over somewhat cautiously, and took it.

"You look fucking awful," Sam said bluntly after a sip of it, not meaning for it to come out that way but there really wasn't another way to put it. Dean's eyes were bloodshot, baggy, and tear-stained. His clothes were wrinkled and his hair was a mess. He basically looked like how Sam's felt for the past few weeks. There was a triumphant feeling in Sam's chest and he almost wanted to laugh out loud seeing Dean like this.

"I _feel_ fucking awful," Dean mumbled.

"Where did you stay last night? Did you get trashed?" Sam asked suspiciously.

"I stayed at Bobby's. And, yeah, before that I went to a bar and pretty much drank myself sick. That's kinda what I like to do to run away from my problems," Dean said matter-of-factly.

A laugh suddenly rumbled through Sam's throat. "Your _problems?_ " Sam blurted out. "And what _problems,_ do _you_ even have, exactly?"

Sam started to walk away from him because, seriously, he didn't wanna fucking hear this.

"I broke my little brother's heart," Dean replied softly.

Sam turned around so fast it would have made his head hurt because technically he still had a hangover but it didn't phase him cause he's suddenly seeing red.

"Aw, you poor, _poor_ thing!" Sam shouted. "You know, that must have been so incredibly fucking _hard,_ for _you!_ " his blood was boiling. How _dare_ he make this about him right now.

"Sam-" Dean tried.

"FUCK you!" Sam spat. "You made your bed, Dean! Now lie in it!"

Dean stood up and walked over to him, slowly. "I fucked up," he rasped, "I fucked up something great, and I'm so, so sorry."

"Don't," Sam warned quietly. "Don't. I'm not something you can come back to after you decide you don't want it anymore!"

"I never _stopped_ wanting you!" Dean shouted tiredly.

"Really?! Cause I'm pretty sure you made it perfectly fucking clear that you don't-"

"I was scared!" Dean blurted.

Sam eyed him up carefully.

"Christ, I...I was starting to _like you._ A lot. And. I was so scared, Sammy. It wasn't cause I stopped wanting you, or cause you weren't enough, or cause I didn't think it was going anywhere, or any of that bullshit. It's because I'm the biggest fucking coward on the planet."

Sam shook his head. "And, what, you think I wasn't scared shit-less either? What made _you_ so special?"

Dean took Sam's hand in his. Sam almost pulled away but warmth of Dean's simple touch that he's been aching for for _weeks_ pulled him in effortlessly.

"It was selfish, insensitive, and. Just. Really stupid. I should have talked to you about it. I should've-I _shouldn't've_ ran away like that. I'm _sorry,_ Sammy," Dean pleaded.

Sam suddenly no longer felt victory in seeing Dean looking so awful anymore and he didn't know why he ever did. But he was still real hesitant to be merciful because, god, Dean hurt him so bad.

"Take me back," Dean whispered, squeezing Sam's hand lightly.

"Why should I?" Sam asked, half jokingly.

Dean thought for a moment. "Because I bought you ridiculously expensive coffee," he said with a tired smile. "And I know coffee is the way to your heart besides that rabbit food you always eat. I was gonna to go to the grocery store to get you some, but my hangover is kicking my ass so bad I can't go near food without getting nauseous."

Sam cracked a smile and rolled his eyes at this. "Take some aspirin and go to sleep. You can think of more reasons later," Sam said while trying to walk away, but Dean kept a hold on his hand and pulled him in towards him.

"Sleep with me?" he asked quietly, and then after Sam's confused smile added, "Like, _fall asleep_ with me. Not like-you know what I mean," He stuttered.

Sam laughed lightly. "Only if you shower first. You reek."

Dean smiled.

 

Sam lied down on the motel bed and listened to the shower running from the bathroom. The soft _shhhhhh_ noise lulled him in and out of sleep until he heard the soft _click_ of the door opening and Dean walked out.

Sam sat up a little with a smile and watched Dean crawl into bed with him. Dean returned the smile and covered himself up and sighed deeply.

They were lying somewhat close to each other but they weren't touching, and for a little while they just looked at each other silently. It's been a hell of an exhausting month for the both of them. All Sam can really think is, _where do we go from here?_ And he's pretty sure Dean is thinking the same thing.

"You know," Dean mumbled in the pillow, breaking the silence, "You told me that I 'made my bed,' and, well, I'm 'lying in it'...I'm really happy you're lying in it with me."

Sam rolled his eyes. "That's so cheesy! What, did you think that up in the shower?"

Dean smiled in the pillow. "Mmm, maybe. Kind of. I thought of another reason why you should take me back, too."

"And why's that?" Sam asked.

Dean shifted a little closer to him and lied his hand on his. "Because I'm not gonna fuck up like that again," he said softly.

"How do I know that?" Sam whispered.

"You're going to have to trust me," Dean said, tightening his hand on Sam's. "That's what relationships are built up on. Trust, communication, patience-"

"Basically everything we _don't have_ for each other," Sam chuckled.

Dean smiled brightly and rubbed his thumb against Sam's. "We're a work in progress," he said softly.

"We certainly are," Sam laughed thoughtfully.

They drifted off to sleep a couple times with Dean's hand still warmly in Sam's, and they eventually found themselves getting closer and closer to each other until their arms were wrapped around each other tightly. 

Sam woke up to Dean's sleeping face just inches from his. He looked younger when he was asleep, Sam thought. His lips were parted slightly and Sam could feel his breath exhaling on his face. Sam took his thumb and gently rubbed his bottom lip, tracing the smooth, sensitive skin. When he moved his thumb to his top lip, he felt Dean shiver slightly and his eyes opened and Sam retreated his hand away quickly.

"M'what you doin'?" Dean mumbled sleepily.

Sam swallowed the knot in this throat and grinned nervously. "Just...feeling," he mumbled back.

"And?" Dean grunted, stretching slightly.

"And _what?_ "

"How did they feel?"

Sam shrugged and turned his head away from him. "I don't know? Nice?" Sam laughed. He was considering getting up and going to the bathroom to have an excuse to get away from him because _christ_ what he did was fucking creepy, and that's when Dean grabbed his chin and suddenly his lips were on his, warm and soft and reassuring.

Dean pulled back and grinned at him. "And that?" he asked. "How was that?"

"Weird," Sam admitted. "Really weird. This is all just...really weird," he stuttered.

Dean huffed a laugh. "You wanna stop?" he asked.

"Fuck _no_ ," he chuckled, and grabbed Dean's face again and kissed him a little deeper this time and _god_ it was really strange and new to both of them but they couldn't stop and soon Dean crawled on top of him and they were touching over each other's clothes and occasionally Dean thrust his hips down on Sam's and they'd do these little moans into each other's mouths and honestly that was all they could really take.

Clothes melted off effortlessly. They tried not to make it too serious. When Dean took off his shirt he hummed some sort of a seductive musical tone as took his clothes off playfully like he was stripping and it made Sam laugh _a lot_ and relax a little bit. Sam bumped his head on the bed frame when Dean got a little rough and pushed him down on the bed and it hurt like fuck and Dean kissed everywhere on his head saying _sorry-sorry-sorry-sorry I'm so sorry Sammy shit are you okay?!_ Obviously Sam was going to be okay (though he knew he was going to have a really bad bump on his head later).

When they were skin on skin, Sam was breath taken how soft Dean was all over. He couldn't stop touching him, writhing under him, saying his name helplessly. Dean couldn't stop touching him either, breathing his name on his lips and kissing his neck (which Dean decided was Sam's favorite spot because he groaned the loudest when he kissed there and practically shivered all over when he nibbled it with his teeth).

"Dean," Sam gasped on his lips. "God, _Dean._ "

"I know, Sammy, I _know_ ," he moaned back.

Sam was on top of him now, grinding down and sliding his cock against Dean's which was creating this _beautiful_ friction that built up pressure like shaking a soda can and it bubbled inside of their lower stomachs, demanding a release. Dean grabbed a hold of Sam's hips and urged him to thrust faster and Sam was happy to oblige, but the need to finish was obviously becoming overwhelming for the both of them.

"Dean, I really don't think I can-" Sam stuttered on his lips, which was cut off by a desperate, obscene moan.

"Here," Dean said hoarsely, bringing down his hand between their stomachs and grabbing a hold of Sam's dick and started moving his wrist in such a way that drove Sam fucking _crazy._ Suddenly his hips shuttered violently and he was coming so hard he was seeing white behind his eyelids for a couple of seconds (and he made these embarassing whimpering noises that Sam was _sure_ Dean would make fun of him for later).

When Sam came down from his orgasm high, he groggily brought his hand down and grabbed onto Dean's cock and started stroking which made Dean cry out and jerk his hips up.

"Fu-uck," Dean groaned loudly, squeezing his eyes shut and coming onto Sam's stomach.

They lied like that for a little while with Sam lying on top of him. Sam expected Dean to complain about the weight of him being too heavy and for him to move his sasquatch-ass off of him, but instead Dean wrapped his arms around his hips, almost like he was keeping him from moving at all. They occasionally exchanged lazy, soft kisses in the dark while their breathing reached a normal rate again, not really caring about their stomachs being drenched and sticky with their own release.

"Wait," Dean said quietly in the dark, "this _does_ mean you're taking me back, right?"

"You're an idiot," Sam mumbled sleepily in Dean's shoulder.

"I'm being serious."

"Me too," Sam mumbled again.

"Sammy..." Dean started.

Sam sighed loudly and brought his head up to Dean's. "We just basically had _sex_ and you're confirming if that means I'm taking you back? What else would it mean?"

Dean shrugged. "I just...I just wanna hear it," he whispered, running his fingers softly through Sam's hair.

Sam couldn't help but smile. "I'm giving you another chance, yes," he responded.

"I'm not fucking up like that again," Dean assured, "I'm not letting you go again. I swear on my life."

"Swear on your car's life," Sam demanded jokingly.

"Come on now! That's _Baby_ we're talking about! Let's not be hasty about this," Dean responded playfully.

Sam took the pillow that Dean was laying his head on and acted like he was smothering his face with it. Dean grabbed a hold of Sam and threw him down on the bed and started nibbling his neck lovingly while Sam giggled loudly and tried pushing him off of him without much luck.

When they calmed down a little, Sam swore he heard Dean mumble _I think I'm keeping you forever_ before he fell into a deep sleep.

 

The next morning, they were demanded to be at Bobby's bright and early to talk more Apocalypse-related stuff. Sam and Dean made an extra effort to wear button up shirts that hide their enormous amount of hickies on their necks.

When they got there, the air was lighter between them and they tried to hold down the flirtation to a minimum.

"You two seem to have taken my advice and sucked up whatever beef was between you," Bobby commented. "Such good girls; You should try taking my advice more often!"

Castiel nodded quizzically. "Yes, you two seem to be, 'happy as clams.'"

Sam laughed so hard the beer he was drinking come out of his nose and it burned really bad. Bobby and Dean stood there confused, not seeing what was so funny but Sam continued to laugh anyway.

 _Happy as clams,_ Sam repeated in his head. 

And they really were.

 

~ EPILOGUE ~

Sam checked the time on his wrist watch. Three more minutes. He stretched his aching limbs and turned over slowly to shake awake the sleeping Dean that was laying beside him, snoring away.

"Dean. Dean! It's 11:57," he whispered.

Dean made an incoherent annoyed sound that was between a groan and a sigh. "So?" he grunted.

"So," Sam said, "I can turn on the TV and we can watch the ball drop in Times Square."

"I've seen enough balls tonight for the both of us," Dean mumbled in the pillow.

"You're so gross. I think the hot blonde with the nice rack is hosting tonight," Sam tried to bargain.

"She doesn't do anything for me anymore. I've got something else that I enjoy looking at a lot more," Dean said seductively, tracing his fingers down Sam's arm.

Sam rolled his eyes at his brother and leaned over and kissed him lightly a couple times. "Dork," he said lovingly, and stretched his arm to read his watch. 12:00.

"One year," Sam sighed on Dean's lips, practically dripping with relief. He honestly didn't think that they'd make it this far. It's been a hell of a year for the both of them. Their relationship has been put to the test _many_ times, but they always came out hand in hand. No matter what. Just like Dean promised.

"And many more to come," Dean added, kissing him reassuringly. "Holy shit! It's New Years! And I'm not even drunk!"

"That's cause we've spent the entire evening in this bed with your dick in my ass," Sam reminded him.

Dean smiled wildly at the thought and wiggled his eyebrows. "Grab the credit card in my jean pocket on the floor and get us some booze, Sammy?" he asked with a pouty-lip.

"Dean, it's New Years Day. Nothing's open."

"I believe in you, honey," Dean said, shoving his head back in the pillow and falling back asleep.

Sam drove to the nearest liquor store he could find, and, much to his luck, the person running the counter said that he was _just_ about to close down, but he could check him out first.

He picked out a twelve pack of Dean's favorite beer and when he walked in the liquor section, he made sure to find a certain bottle and (with a little bit of searching), he found it.

When he brought it up front to the cashier to check out, the guy held the bottle in his hands and laughed before scanning.

" _Raspberry flavored_ vodka? Man, _somebody's_ trying to woo a girl off her feet tonight!" He exclaimed.

Sam just smiled.

 


End file.
